


Any Two Guys

by Zeke Black (istia)



Series: Los Hermanos [5]
Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Mag7 Bingo Challenge, POV Chris Larabee, Road Trip, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-22
Updated: 2012-01-22
Packaged: 2017-10-29 22:24:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/324821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/istia/pseuds/Zeke%20Black
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ezra surprises Chris. A <em>Los Hermanos</em> story, where the Seven are brothers and half-brothers. Inspired by the <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/collections/canadian_shack_2011">Canadian Shack 2011</a> challenge, though not part of that collection, and a fill for my Mag7 Bingo square "Piñata".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Any Two Guys

###### FALL 1980

"Meet me in Blaine," was all the message Chris got via JD, who answered the phone. "Tomorrow 8 a.m."

Ezra'd been away from the ranch for a good three weeks by then, and Chris hadn't had a break to speak of himself for weeks, plus the demand for trail rides had wound down now kids were back in school and visitors were a trickle. So he shrugged, told the boys he'd be back in a few days, and took off at dawn.

Ezra was waiting as promised, dressed in what passed as casual for him: knife-edge pleated black slacks and a leather bomber jacket. He hopped into the car, dumped a leather bag in the back seat, and flashed Chris a brilliant grin, all dimples and sparkling gold tooth.

"North, James," he said, waving a hand regally toward the Customs booths.

So north they went, past the Peace Arch and two check-points, still on the same road except the signs changed from Interstate 5 to Highway 99. They reached Vancouver's urban sprawl and Ezra, with a map and a small notebook open on his knee, navigated them through the outskirts to Tsawwassen, where there was a ferry and a two-hour sail to a town on an island.

"North!"

North they continued until Ezra, peering at the map and road signs, directed him to take a turn-off to the left onto a long, empty stretch of road.

"Where exactly are we? More to the point, where are we going?"

"We're going west, of course, at the moment. Well, sort of north-west-ish."

A warm, light grip on his leg above his knee, and he turned his head to meet another of Ezra's brightest smiles.

"You'll like it; trust me."

He did, strangely, despite their history and good sense. He trusted Ezra implicitly, the deceits and bitterness of their start not forgotten, but tucked away with the other forbidden memories. The hand stayed on his leg a moment, warm as contentment, before Ezra checked his notebook and fussed with the map again.

Then there was a lot of narrow, two-lane road with sparse traffic cut through a towering forest of fir and pine. He raised his brows at a signpost saying Highway 4.

"They call this a 'highway'?"

"We are in a foreign land, Chris." Ezra used his prim, lecturing voice, but he grinned. He couldn't seem to stop grinning.

The forest thinned after a half-hour's drive and Chris slowed to pass through a village, a cluster of houses on either side of the highway; both of them craned their heads in startlement at seeing goats grazing on the grass roof of a log building before they were away from that hint of civilization and back into forest and road. The road went up a mountain: and up and up, steep and winding, and down a bit to skirt around a lake, dark and still with wisps of fog clinging to the surface, a row of spiky mountains with train trestles spanning ravines rising from the far shore. Chris slowed here, too, as the road became serpentine, following the quirks of the shoreline. A massive granite outcropping hung close over a hairpin curve; "Angel Rock" was graffitied on it among a scattering of names and dates, some more faded than others.

"Apt name," Ezra muttered.

Chris wondered how many souls that rock had claimed on dark nights and icy days, and tightened his hands on the steering wheel.

They left the lake behind and a cathedral of massive trees and then it was downhill, down the other side of the mountain, down and down to the lip of a valley with a town nestled in it. A perfectly formed valley, completely ringed by mountains except for straight ahead of them where a river sparkled in the fall sun, with another tree-spiked mountain range on its far side.

They stopped at a gas station to fill the tank and use the restroom. Chris stretched his back until his neck popped.

"Want me to drive now?"

"Nah, I'm good." He smiled at Ezra as he climbed back into the cab with a coke, the smell of Ezra's coffee wafting over to him.

Ezra smiled back, still looking like a shard of sunlight had got trapped inside him, lighting his eyes and teeth and even setting his skin aglow. Ezra was outwardly calm, but Chris could see his leg jittering, his hands constantly moving, his eyes darting from map to outside to Chris to map. He'd have been happier driving, Chris knew, but Ezra recognized Chris's need to feel in control of his fate as much as possible, and accepted it.

They left the town behind in minutes, back to a narrow road between soaring trees until a lake suddenly appeared on their left, a vast stretch of water the road wound round and round.

"A veritable Lake of Shining Waters."

At Chris's amused snort, Ezra said, "What? I used to stay with a cousin who had all the _Anne_ books and used to quote them. Incessantly. I couldn't help but imbibe some of the romantic nonsense."

"Uh-huh. We can blame it all on your strange childhood."

Ezra just twinkled at him, bright and merry.

But childhoods were dangerous ground, so they both looked away to the lake instead. And there were--

"Are those-- They look like--"

"Water bombers." Ezra nodded, leaning forward to stare out Chris's side window. "I'd forgotten they're kept here. Impressive."

Mars bombers, Chris remembered, used in World War II and converted afterwards to water bombers. Two huge, squat forms riding at anchor on giant pontoons, looking oddly graceful despite their fat bellies.

"They must be a hell of a sight lifting off."

He kept glancing to the left to get flashes of the planes through the trees, picturing in his head what they'd be like taxiing across the lake, heavy with a full-load of water, until the road curved and they left the lake behind and were climbing another mountain. Not as big a mountain as the previous one, but steep, and the road--still marked Highway 4!--now a series of switchbacks that forced him to slow to a creep uphill. All the way to the summit, where a long, wooden bridge narrowed the road to a single lane.

Chris pulled to the side, sliding to a stop, and Ezra, who'd closed his eyes, popped them open. "Why are we stopping? Oh, Lord."

"He wanted the right of way; I wasn't about to argue."

A logging truck, piled high with massive, peeled logs, lumbered across the bridge. The driver lifted a hand in thanks as he drove past, and Chris put the truck into gear and headed for the bridge. Ezra's knuckles whitened in his grip on the dashboard.

"Well, at least we know the bridge'll hold the weight of the truck." Chris chuckled, not above poking at Ezra's own issues with not being in control in dicey situations, even while Ezra's trust, eloquent in his silence, warmed him.

So he took it steady, the tires thumping rhythmically over the planks. He glanced out the side window once into a deep gash in the mountain, then kept his eyes set on steering a neat path down the middle of the bridge. Ezra sighed and relaxed when the thumping stopped, smoothing a hand down his shirt-front in one of his discreet calming habits. Then it was more switchbacks, going steeply down now to level ground and less trees, a gray, stony landscape and another lake, this one smaller with a narrow, shingle beach, but with the usual backdrop of tree-furred mountains. And soon after that, as he flipped the rear-view mirror to avoid the glare of the lowering sun in his eyes, the end of the road. Or a fork, at least, the road ending in a T.

Ezra lifted his head from the map and waved a hand again. "North!" His glee looked manic now, excitement barely checked.

Chris turned right onto another long stretch of two-lane highway with almost no cars, but more forest again. Beach this time, too, though, flashing by on the left; miles of pale sand and rolling gray waves seen through sprinklings of trees.

"Is that the Pacific?"

Ezra grinned at him.

"Jesus. You've brought us to the frigging edge of the world?"

"Not far now."

He didn't ask. Ezra's excitement was thrumming in Chris's gut now, anticipation a burn like whiskey in his belly. Even his toes felt tingly inside his boots--though he supposed that might be cramp setting in.

Miles of beach on the left and mostly thick stands of trees on the right, broken occasionally for a few houses or a road. Then the road curved a little inland and they lost sight of the beach, trees thick and tall on each side, and Ezra said:

"Wait, turn here! This is ours."

"Ours?"

Ezra was waving impatiently at, hell, okay, there was a road of sorts leading down into shadowed darkness between the trees. Chris vaguely noted a plank with "2075" painted on it in white nailed to a tree before he focused on negotiating the narrow, steep road. Trees were so close on either side that some branches brushed the top of the cab at one turn, but it wasn't long before they emerged into a small clearing and Chris stopped beside a cabin in its center.

"We're here!"

Ezra bounced out of the truck. Chris followed more slowly, stretching. He scanned the area as he rounded the truck, but his eyes gravitated to Ezra, face bright as a kid's at Christmas, all big eyes and dimples.

Chris glanced aside, blinking away the threat of memories, and his eyes caught on the...cabin.

Ezra heaved a heartfelt sigh as he took a leisurely look around, turning slowly in a circle. "It's perfect. Who'd have thought?"

"Certainly not me," Chris said, to draw Ezra's attention back to him.

He was rewarded with sparkling eyes and Ezra stepping close enough for Chris to smell his aftershave. Chris drew in the scent, light and familiar among the rich smells of damp soil and vegetation.

"It's ours, Chris."

"Yeah, you already said that." Chris raised an eyebrow at him.

" _Ours_. Yours and mine. I had the deed put in both our names."

"You bought this place?" Chris's eyes snapped to the ramshackle cabin, then back to Ezra.

"Good Lord, no. I won it!" Nobody could out-smug Ezra; Chris snorted, amused. "Well, to be fair, Mother helped. I think she divined my hankering for that particular pot and...crafted, shall we say, a few hands to help me to the win."

"And you wanted it because--?"

"For us! It's ours."

He was missing something, he got that; not an unusual state to be in around Ezra. Chris frowned and took another look around the small clearing. An even smaller wood structure caught his eye beyond the cabin, tucked in among the ring of trees on the other side of the clearing. He had a feeling the thing was neither ornamental nor a mere relic.

"Okay," he said slowly. "You won us a...shack in the wilderness in the middle of Canada. Complete with outhouse."

Ezra outright freaking _beamed_ at him. "Yes! Though, technically, it's a--" his eyes slid to the cabin for a moment "--very rustic dwelling in the wilderness on the _edge_ of Canada. But yes. Ours!"

His bemusement must've shown as he tried to see the treasure trove Ezra--looking like he'd just smashed a piñata--apparently did, because Ezra took his arm and turned him gently to face the same direction the truck and the shack were facing.

"See the water?"

Chris looked along Ezra's pointing arm to a glinting swatch of water visible a good bit away through the trees. Those trees were slimmer than the firs and pines crowding around them; birches, maybe, he thought, from their curving slender shapes. They were too shadowed in this pocket of forest in late afternoon light to see their bark or the individual shape of their leaves.

"A lake?" he hazarded. "Fishing?" Ezra and fishing? He couldn't get anything but a ludicrous image in his head.

"An inlet of the Pacific, actually. Possibly fish; I have no idea. But all the land between here and the water? We own that."

He turned to face Chris, grinning like a mad thing. "Also all the land up to the road and a goodly piece on each side." He threw his arms out to the sides. "No close _neighbors_ , Chris! No one to see us, no one to hear us. No one likely to stumble down here unannounced. This is all ours. And we're alone here."

Chris could feel the smile threatening to split his face; damned if he wasn't grinning like a loon himself now. "Just you and me."

"Yes!"

"In a shack in the wilderness on the edge of Canada. With nobody to see or hear us--give or take a few bears, raccoons, maybe a cougar or two--"

"Yes, yes; wilderness. _Alone_ in the wilderness. We'll get a baseball bat to carry to the outhouse with us. And we can come here whenever we want." He said the last with a sigh of pure happiness.

Chris took the one step needed to be close enough to feel Ezra's warmth and the brush of Ezra's leather jacket against his hands as he lifted them to cup Ezra's face.

"So we can do this without anyone seeing or caring?" And he bent to kiss Ezra's mouth.

Ezra broke the luxurious kiss with the touch of his cool cheek against Chris's before pulling back to look at him with dancing eyes.

"Any time we like. As much as we like. And even if anyone were to see us, or when we go into the village--"

"There's a village?"

"--for food-- Of course there's a settlement of some sort; a few miles farther up the road, according to the map. And when we go there, we'll just be two strangers. No one will know us from the man in the moon. No one who comes _here_ is ever likely to recognize either of us from home; just eventually, perhaps, as occasional residents."

Chris was in danger of fucking _beaming_ right along with Ezra. What the hell: no one could see them. They could do anything they fucking pleased.

"So, just any two guys like any other two guys."

"On our own land doing _whatever we want_."

Ezra was the one who moved this time, arms sliding around him, dragging him close, imperious and demanding in Ezra's typical way. _Noisy sex_ , Chris suddenly thought; _holy shit, we can have actual noisy sex!_ Even when they grabbed time to themselves away from the house and the family, they'd always had to be restrained in motel rooms.

For an unrestrained Ezra, vibrating in his arms with expectation, a day's drive was a fucking small price to pay. Chris smiled as he broke the kiss and just held onto Ezra for a long moment, riding the excitement that'd been burning in Ezra the whole day.

"You done great, Ezra. And I'm just gonna pretend Maude doesn't have any idea why you wanted this place so bad."

Ezra laughed and slid his hand down to tangle their fingers. "She is a remarkable and perspicacious woman; but, yes, I'd rather not think about my mother right now." He glanced away from their fixed gazes to the treetops. "It'll be dark soon. Shall we check out our quaint little domicile? With luck, there'll be a stove we can light. Perhaps even a pot-bellied one!"

And still looking like an overgrown kid at Christmas, Ezra towed him toward their shack. Their own shack. Just any two guys with a shack in the wilderness on the edge of Canada.


End file.
